


Weaving Rumors

by lnhammer



Category: The Odyssey - Homer
Genre: Epic Poetry, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Power of Words, Slice of Life, Strong Women of Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lnhammer/pseuds/lnhammer
Summary: Penelope was waiting, waiting, always waiting. What did she do besides weave?Well, for one thing, she ruled.





	Weaving Rumors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fresne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/gifts).



Striking a chord to settle her audience, the singer began:

> Sing, goddess, of the woman of wiles, wife of the wanderer,  
>  who held his hall and kingdom against those who would plunder it,  
>  enemies all of Odysseus wasting within and without,  
>  —waiting till angry Poseidon permitted her lord’s return,  
>  raising their godlike son until he could take the reins. 

The few high giggles from the two youngest handmaidens gave way to a burst of general laughter at this hit on horse-mad Telemachus. Penelope shifted in her seat but held her peace. So far, the satire was harmless.

> Which goddess helped the constant Penelope through the long years?  
>  Phene, bearing the rumors of Zeus, brought to her word  
>  of her husband's travels in hints and pieces, and spread—

Medon’s appearance in the day-chamber door gave Penelope an excuse. “Enough,” she said, voice firm but not loud—and then looked to the herald. 

“Aww,” Melantho said. “It was just getting good!”

Another time, maybe in private, Penelope would enjoy hearing the rest. She regretted that breaking it off now would make some think her objection was to the satire—though if anything, giving away the secrets of her statecraft was more dangerous. 

“Medon,” she said pointedly, “what is it?”

“A ship-trader, m’lady, come to pay his respects to the king’s regent.”

As required by her decree, but it still was good to pretend it was a courtesy on his part. Penelope nodded. Her handmaidens had already stood up, shifting seats to arrange an audience. Penelope moved from the stool by her loom to a backless chair facing the door, with Melantho standing at her shoulder. 

Soon the man stood before her, fiddling with a shapeless leather hat. A lad, probably a ship’s boy, stood all but panic-stricken behind him. “Welcome, Captain—may Poseidon and Hermes smile upon your ventures.”

He cleared his throat. “Thank you, er, m’lady. As may Zeus and Hera upon yours.” Not a very practiced speaker—or maybe just unnerved by dealing with a woman ruler.

Penelope softened her voice to set him at his ease. “Whence fare you?”

“I am Lamas son of Nisas, from Pylos. I sail through these islands to Dulichium, Aetolia, and Elis, trading as I go. My last port was Zacynthus—I came straight here from there.”

The kingdom’s southernmost island. Was he showing respect to the kingship, by not stopping at Samé along the way, or was he eager for one of Penelope’s gifts to news-bearers?

Something to approach carefully. “What news of Zacynthus?” With so many suitors for her supposed-widow’s hand staying here, she couldn’t leave her husband’s hall to see to the realm in person—she had to rely on stewards visited her and Telemachus’s inexperienced eyes. Any scrap of news from other islands was useful.

“My host was Polybus son of Polyctor.” 

Melantho stirred but held her tongue—good girl. 

Lamas went on, “The harvest ripens well, I was told, but the sheep have not recovered from last year’s plague.”

Hoof-and-mouth—fortunately it hadn’t escaped the island. “I hope your trading there was prosperous.”

“Well enough,” Lamas said guardedly. 

Penelope drew a breath. No matter how many times she asked this, it always stretched her nerves like warp strings on a large loom. “Tell me, have you any news of my lord husband?”

“I spoke last year with a man of Laconia who saw seven ships from Ithaca pass Cape Kapello on Kythira, sailing westward.”

Her loom of nerves fell slack, like yarn wet with tears. She kept a bland face. “His name? and when was this?”

“Clytius of Laconia, and …” Lamas hesiated. “He didn’t say exactly when, but it seemed not long ago.”

Seven years, actually. Lamas was the fifth man to pass this on. But at least she had something else from him. Remembering this helped Penelope say the practiced words: “Thank you for your news. It sets my heart at ease. As a token of my appreciation, for you,” and she gestured to Melantho, who passed him a folded wall-hanging.

Lamas eagerly accepted it before passing it to his still petrified boy. “Thank you, m’lady. The weavers of Ithaca are famed for their work.” Penelope carefully did not look at her loom.

They talked some more, but she learned nothing of import. Although she offered her hospitality, he declined, claiming he’d already accepted Amphimachus not far from the harbor—which was just as well, as far as Penelope was concerned.

“Smooth waves and steady winds,” she wished him.

“Thank you, m’lady,” he said, bowing awkwardly. He double-checked that his ship’s boy still had her gift, and they departed.

By this time, it was time for the household to prepare for the evening meal. Or evening rout, as Melantho called it. All her attendants except Melantho and Eurycleia left.

As the latter slowly tidied the day-chamber, Melantho said softly, “Polybus.”

“Yes,” Penelope said slowly, considering how to use this. Polybus had announced publically seven days ago that he would travel to the mainland, seeking news of Odysseus—a blatant attempt at currying favor with Penelope. Definitely NOT supposed to be home. Despite this deception, he was far from the worst man among her suitors, but he _was_ the most personally annoying: he’d vied with Odysseus for her hand, and here he was, making another go as if he were still young. Competing with his own son, Eurymachus, no less—speaking of bad men.

Penelope gathered the threads of her thoughts. “It’s time to eliminate him.”

Melantho nodded, pleased. “Spread the rumor of where he really went wide?”

Penelope shook her head. “Just to Antinous, at least at first. If that spite-hound doesn’t do our work for us within the day, then Ctesippus and his drunkards.”

This way, the blow to Polybus’s reputation wouldn’t appear to come from her. A blow strong enough, Penelope wagered, to make him withdraw his hand.

Melantho thought for a moment, then smiled. “As you will, m’lady.”

“See to it before they dine—before Antinous is drunk.”

Melantho bowed and left to her task.

Penelope glanced at her loom, then smiled to herself. Phene had been good to her today.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, by the time of Odysseus's return, Polybus is still considered one of the suitors, but it's not clear anyone is taking his suit seriously, least of all his own son. This story points to one possible way this could have come about.


End file.
